


Silver Lining

by KassWritesStarker



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Cheating, Daddy Kink, Father/Son Incest, Guilty Pleasures, I'm Going to Hell, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Shame, Tony Stark Has Issues, so does the author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 21:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KassWritesStarker/pseuds/KassWritesStarker
Summary: He shouldn't have these thoughts; he really shouldn't. They are all sorts of wrong....but when he looks at his son's beautiful face and the way he smiles, Tony can't seem to bring himself to really care.





	Silver Lining

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing.  
Comments and Feedback are appreciated!

There is a certain line people usually don’t cross when it comes to their family and its members. Most of them don’t even think about the line; about the thoughts that could potentially lead one right to the edge of it… or even further.  
  
There are some things people just don’t act upon. A decent person might not even get into a situation like that. Yes, a decent person for sure wouldn’t be in a situation like that. Too bad Tony isn’t a decent person; too bad that he’d probably fall into the ‘scum of the earth’ category if something like that existed.

It probably does and he's on the top of that list.

Tony loves his family - he really does. With all his heart and soul. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for either of them. His beautiful and loving wife and his little darling boy Peter. Well, not so little anymore but it doesn’t matter if he’s 6 or 16. He’ll always be Tony’s baby boy.

Maybe that’s the problem; the reason why he doesn’t see how close he is to that sacred line until he’s practically dancing the tango on it, his mind confusing the details and messing them up too much until it’s all just one big tangle of twisted webs. 

* * *

It starts out innocently enough.

They mostly are dreams in the beginning and not even _ that _weird. They just confuse him because until then, he usually dreams about May and their most special events. Their first meeting is a recurring thought that sneaks into his mind in the middle of the night. It’s often their firsts, actually.

The first meeting, the first date, first kiss, the first time. That last one is his second favourite. Tony’s favourite one has to be the day May and Peter first met. She had been smitten with him from the very beginning.

He still remembers how nervous he was that day, no matter how often she told him that there was nothing to worry about. She never had expressed having a problem with him having a child from a past relationship. Tony knew she wouldn’t lie to him but still, he had been worried.

It turned out that he had been for no reason. The two hit it off from the very beginning. Not only does May adore Peter but his son also loves her just as much in return. It’s more Tony could ever have hoped for. 

So, it makes him frown that his wife is featured less and less in his nightly adventures. Instead, his beautiful son is there, doing nothing but smiling at Tony and showing off his teeth in the process. He knows that smile too well. It’s the one Peter gives him when he has messed up and found no way to fix it in time before Tony found out about it. 

That smile is his last resort and it usually works well enough. Tony can’t stay mad at him too long, no matter what he does. Not when his baby boy looks at him, all beaming and shining.

“Darling, are you alright?” Tony blinks slowly and turns his head to look at his wife. “You look like you are somewhere completely different.” He returns her soft smile and leans over the table and the breakfast on it to give her a quick peck on the forehead.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m fine.”, he reassures her and it seems to be enough because she goes back to reading the paper after that. Tony leans back in the chair and picks up one of the sandwiches to half-heartedly chew on it.  
  
He doesn’t know why he’s so confused about it all. He shakes himself mentally and tells his worrying brain not to think about it too much. Besides, it’s perfectly normal to dream about your own child; nothing weird about that.

“Morning.” Peter stumbles into the kitchen, one hand rubbing over his eyes to get the rest of sleep out of them. He walks over and gives both him and May a kiss on the cheek as a real good morning. 

“Morning, Pete.”, Tony mumbles, part of the bitten off sandwich in his mouth slowly turning saggy until he finally swallows it. “Did you sleep well?”

His son falls into the chair next to him and waves a hand dismissively. “Not really.” Tony frowns. “Had to pull an all-nighter to get that paper finished. We are supposed to hand it in today.” He glances at May who has put down the paper and is shaking her head at Peter.

“I told you to start that weeks ago, sweetie.”, she gently scolds him.  
  
The boy shrugs and only barely manages to fight off the uprising yawn inside him. “Well, I finished it.” He gives them both a wide grin. “And I think it’s pretty good.” May rolls her eyes and leans over to ruffle his hair. “Hey!”, Peter cries out and swats her hand away. “I already did my hair!”

Tony watches them goof around, doing his best to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. There is no reason for all of this. He’s fine.

They are fine.

\- 

It’s also completely fine that Peter slips into his mind from time to time when Tony is busy kissing his wife. He just thinks about something mundane in the wrong moment - probably that tedious school event every parent has to attend next week.

He thinks about that a lot and the connection to Peter is so obvious; it makes sense. Tony closes his eyes (he doesn’t know why) and shuts his mind down.

-

He might start to slip into the grey area when his dreams go back to those firsts but May doesn’t return with them. Instead, it’s still Peter there with him on the date, in the car, in the bed-

Tony always manages to wake up before it goes any further. Still, at night, when he wakes up drenched in sweat and slightly shaking, the image of Peter’s lips on his doesn’t repulse him as much as it should.

He rolls over and scoots closer to May, ignoring the way his heart aches when she turns to cuddle into his chest with a happy sigh.

-

It might be wrong to think about Peter while he is jerking off; especially with his wife sleeping calmly right next to him. He tries to think about a valid excuse for it that doesn’t paint him as a twisted man but then he quickens his pace and the images of his darling boy’s plump lips and beautiful ass are all that his brain can come up with.  
  
He can’t bring himself to care enough to stop. He just puts a hand over his mouth and bites down really hard, telling himself that it’s not so he doesn’t call Peter’s name out loud as he spills himself into his hand.

After; he stares at his hand and the semen dripping from it while wondering when it all has started to go this wrong. 

-

It most definitely is wrong to jerk himself off while sitting on the living room couch with Peter right in the next room. May is at work and won’t be home until late in the evening. Tony has suggested in the past for her to cut down on the hours and be able to spend more time at home but she genuinely seems to enjoy her work.

And he would never think about telling her what to do. Right now, he is really fucking grateful that she isn’t here to see him like this - shirt bunched up and pants pulled down to pool around his ankles, hard and leaking cock in hand while he lazily strokes it.

His head is resting on the back of the couch and he keeps his eyes tightly shut, biting his lip to keep the treacherous moans inside as his hand slowly works over his erection. Little sounds manage to get out every now and then but Peter listens to music most of the time and he wouldn't hear the world ending with those damn headphones on.

His hips jerk up when his thumb passes over the slit on the top of his cock. This is wrong, this is so wrong. Tony knows that - of course, he fucking does. What fucked up person jerks off to the thought of his child?  
  
But no one will understand. None of them have Peter as a son. His perfect, beautiful, magnificent baby boy. He’s the best kid any parent could ever wish for and _ just so pretty_. His porcelain skin stands in such a contrast with that curly mess of dark brown hair; and he’s Tony’s.

He’s got to be the luckiest man in the world. The speed with which he is working himself over increases while he’s lost in his thoughts and soon enough he is thrusting up with every stroke of his hand. He can’t keep this aggressive pace up for long however and he comes all over his hand and stomach before he even really manages to process it.

Tony sits there in his own mess for a few minutes; out of breath and with a small wound on his hand where he had been biting down too hard. His eyes are still closed and the light blinds him for a heartbeat when they finally flutter open. 

He doesn’t look down to avoid seeing the evidence of his fucked-up mind on his stomach. He lets go of his now spent and soft cock and reaches for his pants. 

The sound of a door opening makes him freeze for a short second. Then, he grabs his pants and pulls them up as quickly as possible - jumping up from the couch to be able to fasten them completely again. His shirt falls down to (luckily) cover the mess on his stomach. 

“Dad?” Peter pokes his head around the corner of the door before fully stepping into the living room. He watches Tony for a moment, head cocking to the side as a puzzled look crosses his face. “You alright?”

He panics as he stands there like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Well, sick and kind of illegal cookie jar.  
  
Tony hums; hoping that the sound manages to cover up the nervous hitch in his voice. “What is it, Pete?” It sounds normal enough, given the fact that there is currently cum slowly rolling down his stomach.  
  
“Uhm, nothing…” He raises an eyebrow at his son’s poor attempt at a lie and the boy carves in an instant. “I was sure that I heard you calling my name earlier…” Tony pales; visibly pales. He’s sure his son can see the colour drain from his face. He didn’t bite his fucking hand that hard for Peter to still have heard him.  
  
“I’m fairly sure I didn’t.”, he replies with his best dad-voice; the one that didn’t allow any further objections. Usually, that does the deal but of course, this time, it isn’t enough. His son is still observing him with visible worry etched into his forehead. 

“Alright…are you really okay, though? You look out of breath.” _ Fuck. _ Tony cringes inwardly and wills his breathing to slow down. How long does his damn body need to recover?  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine.”, he says while straightening his shirt and by straightening, he means pressing it flat against his stomach so no cum leaks out from under it. “You can go back to your homework.” 

“Actually, I was listening to music.” Peter points at his neck and only now does Tony notice the expensive headphones wrapped around it. “That’s why I wasn’t sure if you actually called my name.”  
  
“Ah.” Tony doesn’t know what else to say and by this point, he can feel he’s about to make a mess with his almost leaking shirt. He coughs and lifts his hand to scratch the back of his neck.  
  
Peter frowns and god, he’s so pretty even when he pulls his brows together like that. Sometimes Tony is scared - scared that he’ll wake up one day to find out that the last 16 years were all just a dream and that he’s still without a beautiful baby boy. 

And every day when he walks into the kitchen and sees Peter on his phone or hunched over some last-minute homework, his heart actually flutters with relief and joy. This is all real. His boy is real and perfect. And his.

“Alright then. I’ll be in my room if you… need me for anything.” Tony watches silently as his son retreats out of the living room and back to his own. His cum is dropping on the floor by the time he hears the door close.

When May comes home in the evening, he greets her with a long kiss and a bright smile. She smiles back as if nothing has happened. In her mind, nothing had.

* * *

This procedure becomes a regular thing for him. Every time his wife is at work; every time Peter is in his room listening to music, he sits on that couch with his cock in hand, trying to stay quiet. 

At first.  
  
But after some time, it just becomes too hard to do so. If he continues biting his lip that hard, Tony is sure he’ll draw blood very soon. There is no harm in the quiet little noises that he lets out now and then. Peter won’t hear him with the horrid music he’s usually listening to and that is blasting in his ears. 

There is also no harm in calling out his son's name from time to time, Tony thinks to himself as he once again quickens the pace of his hand. The name is buried between the quick, little moans anyway. He almost can’t understand it himself.

There is a distant noise but Tony pays it no further mind - Pete probably knocked over one of his lamps again while dancing to his music. At this point, he has lost count of how many new lamps he had to buy him because of that.

He is too focused on the task at hand; there will be more time to worry about broken furniture later. He hisses out loud, his jaw clenched. “Pete..”, he half-heartedly groans at the ceiling. 

“Dad…”  
  
Tony’s eyes fly open, head snapping up from where it has been resting on the back of the sofa. His hand stops mid-stroke. There stands Peter, in the middle of the living room, eyes equally wide as Tony’s. His mouth is opened in a silent ‘Oh’.

“Pete-”, Tony starts to explain but there isn’t any more he can say. What else _ could _he say, really? “What- I- I thought you were listening to music.” He should really pull up his pants… or at least let go of his cock.  
  
He does neither, just continues to sit there and stare at his son. His beautiful son. 

“I… I wanted to do my homework so I stopped and-”, Peter starts to stutter, breath growing heavier with each word that leaves his mouth. “and- and I heard a sound again so I..:” He points in the direction of his room. “I wanted to check it out.”  
  
He doesn’t say anymore after that; just stands there and watches him. Tony shifts, more than uncomfortable under his son’s piercing gaze. If he plays this right, he might have a chance to get out of this unharmed. “Pete, please go back to your-”  
  
Peter interrupts him before he can get his order out. “Why are you doing this on the couch?” His voice is so tiny, almost childlike. It shouldn’t turn him on, it really shouldn’t. It doesn’t - not at all.  
  
“Peter, I told you to-”, he attempts to order him but gets interrupted yet again.  
  
“Why are you doing this in the living room?” He takes a step closer and Tony unconsciously leans back, trying to get more space between the 2 of them. “You know I could just walk in any time.” Tony frowns. He doesn’t sound appalled or horrified - just curious. 

Worst thing is, he doesn’t know how to answer that. “You usually… I didn’t think you could hear. Now, get out!”, he growls louder, hoping that his dad-voice and the volume he uses is enough to scare him away and back to his room. He needs time to think about the best way to talk to Peter about… this.

“I heard you.” Peter doesn’t leave, doesn’t back down. No, he takes _ another _step towards him and then Tony can’t really do anything but let go of his cock even if that means that it’s free to bop around for a moment. He doesn’t miss the way big brown orbs snap down to watch it.  
  
“Yes, Pete. I know. You said so already.”, he replies drily while reaching down to finally pull his boxers and pants up and give himself a hint of his authority back. “Now, if you could just get-”  
  
“I mean I _ heard _ you, dad.” Tony’s hands freeze where they are halfway done with their task, the fabric of his pants, almost slipping out of his loose grip. _ Fucking hell_. He forces his muscles to relax. That doesn’t mean that- “You called my name.” Well, he is truly fucked at this point. His breath is picking up again and this time, it isn’t because of an approaching orgasm - not _ completely_, at least. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Pete-”  
  
“I think you do. You said ‘Pete’. I know you did.” Big brown eyes stare back at him, his son’s gaze glued on his face as his feet keep on moving him closer and closer to Tony. He can’t help but let his tongue slide over his dry lips, not missing the way Peter follows the motion. “Why did you say my name?”

There is no lie to tell anymore, nothing he can say to mask his filthy action. He lets his pants drop back down and straightens his back to look his son in the eye. “Because you are just so damn perfect, Pete.”, he hisses out between clenched teeth. “I can’t seem to help myself.”

Of course, he should expect Peter’s shocked expression but it still stings just a little bit. It’s not only the first time he admits it to him, no. This is also the first time that Tony actually lets his own brain accept that specific fact. “My beautiful little darling boy.”

“Dad-”, comes the breathless reply but that’s all he does in return. He doesn’t take a step back, doesn’t turn around to flee in disgust. And then - “Daddy.” Fucking _ hell_. Tony's hand flies back to his still fully hard cock, wrapping itself around his aching dick and thrusting up into it. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me, Pete.”

Peter stares down to where Tony is furiously jerking himself off, mouth opened and air leaving him in short breaths. Tony has no clue why the fuck the boy is still here; especially after hearing all those filthy things coming out of his father’s mouth.

“Daddy…”, the boy whispers, voice quiet and strained. “Is this- is this the first time you’re doing this?” Tony shakes his head, not trusting his own mouth to form actual words while his hand continues to send him into oblivion.  
  
There is a second of silence where Peter lifts his gaze to Tony’s face, waiting for him to voice his answer. He has no choice but to comply. “No.” It sounds lighter than Tony feels. “No, Pete. I’ve been doing this for - _ fuck _\- a few weeks now.” 

Peter cocks his head to the side. “Doing what, Daddy?”

“Th- _ this_, darling.”  
  
“Jerking off to the thought of me?” 

“Fuck.” It shouldn’t be that hot to hear his son say this stuff but Tony can’t help himself; his cock twitching in his tight grip as he grinds his hips upwards. “Baby, why aren’t you upset? Daddy’s being really bad right now.” 

Peter lets himself drop onto the couch; so close to Tony that he can feel his son’s breath on his neck when he leans close. “Because I enjoy seeing you like this, Daddy.”, he hums softly and it’s enough - it’s fucking enough.

It’s too much, actually.

Tony thrust up into his hand one more time and then he’s shooting his load all over his hand and stomach yet again; just like the time where Peter had almost caught him doing this.

But this time, his boy - his darling boy - is right next to him; letting out the most precious sounds Tony has ever had the pleasure of hearing and it prolongs his orgasm for that much longer. He groans loudly and turns his head to bury his face in Peter’s neck.

They stay like that for seconds, minutes, hours - Tony isn’t sure. Then, he pulls back to look at his son’s face, ready to see disgust and horror etched into his beautiful features; ready to watch him as the realization of what he just did sinks in.

It doesn’t happen. Instead, Peter gives him a soft smile and nuzzles his nose against Tony’s. “Was I good, Daddy? Did I help you?” 

Tony lets out a breathless laugh and pulls his son on his lap, ignoring his angry little cry about getting cum all over his clothes. The feel of his clothed legs on his now softening cock is just too good to miss out on. 

“You were such a good boy for me, darling. I’m truly a lucky man.” He presses little kisses to Peter’s forehead; the giggles the boy lets out warming his heart. Tony smiles against his skin and closes his eyes, enjoying the moment.

“Daddy?”, Peter breathlessly hums in a soft and quiet voice.  
  
Tony pulls him closer and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Yes, darling? What is it?”

“Does this mean that you don’t love May anymore?” He freezes, coldness shooting through his veins and spreading into all parts of his body. “I like her really much, you know.” Tony pulls his head back to get a better look at his son.  
  
“No, I love her very much, Pete.”, the older man tells him, trying his best to explain the situation as it is. It’s true, he loves his wife with his whole heart - loves her smile, her voice, everything about her. Even when she’s angry and yelling at him (which thankfully doesn’t happen too often), she is still nothing but perfect. Thing is… “But you’re my little darling boy and I just can’t resist you.” 

Peter beams at those words, a loud and happy noise of approval escaping the back of his throat before he flings his arms across Tony and pulls him in for a long kiss, their tongues coming together as it prolongs. “So,”, he whispers once the need for air gets too strong. “You love us both?”  
  
Tony nods in agreement. “Yes, exactly. You’re such a smart boy.” His smart boy, he thinks to himself proudly, chest swelling. In return, all he gets is an eye roll and a loud and overdramatic sigh. 

“Of course I am. I’m top of my class, daddy. Did you forget that?” His son gives him a bright smile and Tony can’t do anything but pull him into another long kiss, wondering what he has done to be blessed with such a perfect boy.

* * *

When May comes home in the evening, she finds Tony and Peter sitting on the couch, watching a movie. Peter jumps up in an instant to run into her arms, welcoming her back. Her husband isn’t far behind and waits patiently until his son lets go of her to have his turn. 

He pulls her into a tight hug and plants a long kiss on her cheek. “Welcome back, sweetheart. We’ve missed you. I hope work was not too tiring.” She smiles, assuring Tony that it was fine.  
  
“And what have you two been up to?” The two men exchange a look before answering simultaneously. 

“Nothing much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe, perhaps... I do regret some things.


End file.
